Is That Your Katana (Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?)
by Invisible Ranger
Summary: Crack!fic special. When Secretary Delacourt tries out the new state-of-the-art virtual reality simulator on Elysium, she finds paradise...and a certain ruggedly handsome South African merc to go with it. Kruger lovers rejoice!


Is That Your Katana (Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?)

by Invisible Ranger (HBF), 2014

Disclaimer: Elysium and related characters belong to N. Blomkamp/Tristar; this is just for amusement purposes and not for profit.

"Is this it?"

"Yes, Madame Secretary."

Jessica Delacourt had to admit: she'd expected more somehow. What she was looking at was hard to describe. It looked _old._ It wasn't a sleek device like a med-pod, in which the subject lay prone. Not even like some antiquated technology such as an MRI. This machine, for lack of a better comparison, looked like something she'd seen in an old history book from the 20th century. What had been the name of that thing?

She circled, looking appraisingly, not really sure how the thing worked. There was a good reason she was an admin and not a techie. However, she was not about to admit her ignorance to a mere underling. "Describe to me how this works."

The young scientist, Yasmin something-or-other (Delacourt was terrible at remembering techies' names), nodded. "It's a similar concept to the med-pod. The major difference is, of course, a direct rather than indirect interfacing with the brain's synapses, and a mental rather than physical set of interactions. Do you remember that old program, _Star Trek_?" she asked.

Her grandfather, Jean-Luc, had been named for one of the characters, and he never tired of telling people. "Yes."

"Then, for lack of better comparison, this Desideriis machine is a bit like the Holodeck in that program, Madame. It reads our thoughts and projects…" Yasmin hesitated.

"Projects what?"

"Our heart's innermost desires. In complete realistic simulation. Hence its name," Yasmin said.

Delacourt frowned. VR technology had been an integral part of Elysium for a century, including training for the CCB's agents here and on Earth. But she'd never heard of a literal fantasy-making device like this…this…

_Photo booth. That's what they were called._

"It's already been tested on a couple of illegal expendables, Madame, and we know it works. We were hoping you might want to use it. For a PR release, you see," Yasmin encouraged her. "Let the citizens know their Defense Secretary will…"

"This is not Earth. We don't need PR," interrupted Delacourt, though secretly, she was dying to know how the machine worked. _When you already lived in paradise, what could possibly be more exciting? _Her grandfather might have, like his namesake, solved cases alongside Sherlock Holmes or explored the ocean depths with Captain Nemo. She was, however, not so capricious.

"Will you at least try?" asked Yasmin, afraid to offend.

"Yes. But I am doing this sheerly out of scientific curiosity, and not as some sort of dog-and-pony exhibition. Do you understand?" Delacourt said, steel in her voice.

"Yes, Madame, I do." Yasmin nodded. "Let me set you up, it won't take but a moment…"

***s

Delacourt felt slightly claustrophobic inside the Desideriis. It was also set up like an ancient photo booth, with a simple bench facing a wall. A headset, barely perceptible, sat atop her hair. For a moment, she wondered if the thing really worked. Then, as if in a dream, she heard Yasmin's voice.

"Relax, Madame Secretary. I just need to flip a switch here, and the more relaxed you are, the better it will work."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Just relax. You will do whatever you like…"

Delacourt tried to breathe regularly. She shut her eyes, not knowing whether it would help. When she opened them again, she gasped.

She was back in St. Barth's. Her family's summer villa, in the gardens. A cloudless Caribbean day, the air radiant with sun, thick with the scents of tropical flowers and tangy sea air. Nothing, even on Elysium, was half as beautiful as this. Elysium had been named for paradise. This _was_ paradise.

It had been too long.

Like a newborn fawn, she took a step forward, then another. She wobbled only once. Then, laughing, she ran through the flowers and vines, joyfully, like a woman half her age. When she had finished, she sprawled into a papasan chair at the foot of an immense royal palm. As if from thin air, a small table appeared. On it were raspberries the color of blood and a pitcher of icy coconut water. Both her favorites. She reached out and popped one, then two more of the berries into her mouth. They tasted like ambrosia.

When Delacourt had humored her grandfather by watching old episodes of that program with him, she'd thought it would be easy to get lost in a perfect, imagined reality. How right that had been.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. If nothing else, she was going to get a well-deserved nap out of this…

"Ah, Miss Delacourt. So good to see you again."

She was so startled that she kicked out, hitting the table and sending the berries and water flying through the air. She could have sworn she was alone.

"Who's there?" she called, feeling her pulse racing. "Show yourself!"

He emerged from behind a wall of bougainvillea. What was he, of all people, doing here? In this idyllic place he was incongruous, an interloper, a hungry wolf among placid sheep. But, she saw, even he looked somehow cleaner and sharper. "I'd thought I would find you here, _meisie_," Agent Kruger said in a voice much softer than his usual growl.

She stared, openmouthed, at him as he strode toward her. He wore the fatigues and body armor common to all in his class. Shards of protruding bioimplants made his high cheekbones look even sharper. Though it was a warm day, he did not sweat. He was simply a dirty, lowborn mercenary, not some elegant gentleman from the pages of one of those old novels she counted among her few guilty pleasures.

_So why,_ she thought, _am I feeling a flush in my cheeks? That hasn't happened to me in years._

"Is…is this a bad dream?" Delacourt finally managed to say.

"It's your dream, _bokkie_. You tell me." He was mere inches from her now. She could smell him, and it was not an unpleasant smell. Somewhere in between well-oiled leather, pine boughs, and natural musk. A thoroughly masculine scent.

"Go away. You don't belong here," she said weakly.

One of his gauntlet-covered hands reached up and tenderly ran itself through her short hair. "Ah, but I've only just gotten here. And there's nowhere I'd rather be," said Kruger in his thick accent, looking deeply into her eyes. She'd never noticed those eyes before. Dark, bright. A hunter's eyes. Not like the weak, watery eyes of the men who had courted her years before, and failed to win her heart.

"You're not…like I remember you."

"I'm full of surprises," he said, a twinkle in those predatory eyes.

Up close, Delacourt began to notice all the other things she'd either forgotten about him or never observed to begin with. The nose which had surely been broken, but which fit his lean, angular face all the same. The laugh lines at the corners of the fierce, dark eyes. A shaggy beard, which she normally despised on men, but which perfectly suited Kruger. And how the brown was flecked with the beginnings of grey. He had to be close to her age. He was also, she realized, much more of a man than the eunuchs and other emasculated types who populated her world. He could have killed her a dozen different ways, and yet here he was, stroking her hair and whispering Afrikaans bits of sweet nothings into her ear, gentle as you please.

Full of surprises, indeed. Including the clipped Afrikaans words which she didn't understand, but which sounded like sweet music on his lips.

"What did you say?" Delacourt asked, feeling her heart galloping along.

"What I said, _meisie_, is that you are beautiful. And I want you."

Kruger was almost a head taller than her, so when he moved in for a kiss, she not only didn't resist, she leaned upward to meet him. Delacourt had no idea what to expect, but it surely wasn't this. Electricity coursed through her veins. This wasn't just a kiss. This was years of repressed desire, sterile boardroom meetings, and corporate climbing being torn to pieces. Years of pining for Regency noblemen in her youth hadn't prepared her for this. This was the best fireworks display she'd ever seen, to the power of ten. And she lost herself in it.

When she finally did pull away, she found she was grinning.

"What? Too strong, _ne_?" Kruger grinned back.

"No, it's just…" Delacourt giggled. "I've never been kissed by a man with a beard before. It, um, tickles." _When was the last time I _giggled? She thought.

"Oh, you have much to learn, _meisie_. And I have all the time in the world to teach you…"

With gentle dexterity, Kruger reached a hand under her blouse. His fingers excited her even more than his lips had. He reached, and found what he was looking for.

"There you are. Don't you try running, now." He smiled and kissed her above the collarbone.

Delacourt blinked. Something about his voice sounded different. "What's wrong?"

"I said…" He cut off. There was a brief flash of light, then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, it was not Kruger before her, but Yasmin.

"Madame Secretary? Are you all right?" The young woman looked alarmed.

"Um…" Delacourt found that she didn't know. She felt dizzy. "Yes. Fine. What happened to the…"

"The sim? I had to shut it down. Your heart rate had elevated to a dangerous level and your brain waves were, well…" Yasmin paused. "Indicative of some sort of arousal state. What were you thinking of? Chasing lions? Skydiving? You peaked out at around 120."

"That," Delacourt said, mustering as much dignity as she could, "is private." Had she looked in the mirror, she might have seen her cheeks still flushed and her immaculate hair mussed. "If you'll excuse me, Technician, I have work to attend to."

Leaving a flustered and confused Yasmin in her wake, Delacourt headed out of the lab and toward the shuttle which would take her back to the Admin sector. It hadn't been a lie. There was much work to be done today. The first order of business was going to be finding her box of Regency novels and putting them straight into the incinerator dump.

The second was making sure Agent Kruger was sent into the very next war zone she could find.

_The End…maybe?_

_(Happy Valentine's Day to all you Elysium fans and Sharlto Copley fans. I may continue this one; it was done on a challenge from a friend who suggested that Delacourt and Kruger had some checkered past together. Please R thanks!)_


End file.
